Thursdays bite. It's the day that is so close to the weekend, yet so far away. It's not as bad as Wednesday, but also not nearly as blissful as Fridays.
But Thursdays are usually the days the cafeteria serves fish sticks for lunch. It's the only thing that keeps me sane all morning, the knowledge that soon I will be eating previously frozen, breaded chunks of fish dunked in a mayonnaise and pickle dip known as Sam's Special Tarter Sauce before everyone else.
So, there I was--doodling a picture of a duck with a machine gun pointed to a doodled Mr. Francinsen, who was begging for mercy--in third period history when this paper hits me in the back of the head. I frown and turn around to see who could've possibly had the balls to throw something at me, but I don't see anything. Just a couple of empty desks. So, I lean over and pick up the crumbled piece of paper off of the floor.
I open it, and the words "hallway. now." are written messily, with a smiley face an a scribble in the margin. I shrug and pick up my books and leave the class, announcing I've got to use the can. Mr. Francinsen waves me away.
In the hall, Carly is waiting for me, over by the lockers, our usual waiting spot.
"It took you long enough," Carly says as I approach.
"I forgot," I reply, opening my locker to get my special sauce out. "Spencer's got everything ready?"
"Yeah," Freddie calls out as he jogs over to us. "I just went to go check."
I lick my lips, not really realizing how hungry I was until that moment. "Well, what are we waiting for?"
"We were waiting for you," Freddie replies as Carly gestures for us to follow her to the cafeteria.
"Smart kids. You remember the last time you forgot me."
"You ate all my food," Carly says, turning to me. "Which is kind of funny, since you do that even when we remember you."
I smile. "I can't help it. You and Spencer have all the fancy food."
"Like cold cuts?" Freddie interjects.
"No, stupid, like Cup-of-Noodles and Lucky Charms."
"They are magically delicious," Carly agrees.
"How are Cup-of-Noodles fancy?" Freddie asks, confused.
"Because, dear Freddork, they're dried noodles in a Styrofoam cup. Automatically. Fancy."
He sighs, a sign that I have won. I grin to myself. Too easy. Carly pushes open the big teal door to the cafeteria, and we make our way to the kitchen in the back.
Just like always, Spencer is leaning against a wall, earbuds in, waiting for us. He looks up at us and smiles, and when he takes the earbuds out a heavy guitar riff echoes off the stainless steel appliances. He turns to the fridge and opens it, revealing a plate of fish sticks for us to share. "Thanks, Spence!" we all say as we dig in.
"You know," I say between mouthfuls of fish, "Thursdays have gotten a lot better since Spencer started working as a lunch lady."
Heh. Sam likes fish sticks. That's really the only point of this. :D
Review, if you want.
